


maybe it's you I'm looking for

by rowenabane



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: A little bit of fluff, Aliens, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, I cried a little writing this, Light Angst, M/M, Outer Space, Summer, alien lee jeno, but its not really that sad, confused na jaemin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-03 11:25:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15817935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rowenabane/pseuds/rowenabane
Summary: Something lands in the woods by Jaemin's house. He doesn't know what he's expecting to find, but it certainly isn't this.





	maybe it's you I'm looking for

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hXTAn4ELEwM) video
> 
> you can find the playlist for this story [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/qk4ef212wdgk0yexpmvcqkguw/playlist/1JCu0IElA0TtgSVR0W4OyU?si=RpeKgrTQQO6W76sGaGURTA)

When the sky falls, it falls for Na Jaemin.

He's laying in bed counting the revolutions of the ceiling fan when he hears a loud boom and sees a flash of light coming from the woods near his house. He lays in bed a moment longer, eyebrows creased, before pulling on a jacket and slipping out his back door, running down the sloped hill that his house is built on and into the trees, which appear like a solid black mass in the dark. He knows the woods like the palm of his hands, knows the dips and the mounds and the dirt like he knows an old friend. His feet find their way around the forest floor debris as he runs towards the source of the light, hopping across small streams and over downed trees.

The trees in this part of the woods have all been mysteriously knocked over, a large circular clearing in the center of it all. The air is warm and the light pulses through the trees like a heartbeat, something laying in the ground at the center of it all.

Jaemin lingers in the trees around the clearing, unsure if he should come any closer. He wonders if anyone else heard the sound, the loud crash of trees and collision. Jaemin knows, realistically, that probably no one but him did. He lives in the middle of the woods, and his nearest neighbors are miles away. It's the middle of the night, and most people are asleep.

_If a star falls from the sky but no one is there to hear it, does it really fall?_

Jaemin inches toward the center of the clearing, smoke blurring his vision. He coughs, waving a hand to dispel some of the smoke. He comes to the center of the clearing and looks down into the small crater.

There's some sort of metal pod there, the front made of a crystalline glass material, transparent enough that Jaemin can see inside it. A long crack runs down the center.

There's a boy inside it, eyes shut, laying limp beneath the glass. Jaemin can't tell if he's breathing, or even if he's alive. He scrambles into the small dip, pressing his hands to the glass. He tries to wedge his hands into the crack, maybe pull the plates apart, but he can't. He resorts to just hitting the glass with his palms.

The boy's eyes fly open and Jaemin stumbles backwards, his feet catching in the soil. His mouth gapes as the boy presses a hand against the glass and it melts away at his touch. He stands and steps out onto the dirt, swaying, before collapsing. Jaemin is there to catch him before he hits the ground.

The boy looks pale and his hair is a platinum blonde that seems almost white in the glow of the crater. His clothes are like nothing Jaemin's ever seen before, his shirt a mix of metal and silk that's almost liquid as it drapes along his chest. Jaemin realizes he's holding him a little too tightly, a little too closely. He looks down at the boy as his eyes flutter open. They stare right through him.

"Where am I?" He asks, blinking. He steadies himself, pressing a hand to his forehead. "Who are you?" He says, turning to Jaemin.

"You're in Korea." Jaemin replies, confused. Who is this boy? And where did he come from?

"No," the boy shakes his head. He mutters something to himself, his mouth moving without sound. "What - what planet?" He asks hesitantly.

"Earth?" Jaemin responds cautiously. Planet? Wasn't there only one that could support life? This person must be insane, or at least have a concussion.

_Or..._

No. Jaemin refuses to believe it.

Jaemin realizes he hasn't answered one of the stranger's questions, and extends an unsure hand.

"I'm Jaemin," he says. The boy stares at his hand for a second before clasping it in his own.

"I'm Jeno," he replies, holding onto Jaemin's hand for a beat longer than normal. He lets go and turns toward the pod in the crater.

"Earth, you say?" Jeno asks thoughtfully, running his hands over the metal. Jaemin clambers down into the crater and stands next to him.

"Yeah? Solar System, the Milky Way, all that good stuff." Jaemin replies, somewhat sarcastically. Jeno nods, not noticing.

"My ship is broken," he says, wiping his hands together.

"Wait a second," Jaemin interrupts. "Your  _ship?_ " Who  _are_  you?"

"Let's just say I'm not from around here." Jeno responds.

Jaemin tries to rationalize what he's seen, and what Jeno's just said. He is confronted with the obtrusive thought that Jeno just  _might_  be a space alien. It's a bit like E.T., except E.T. is kind of attractive and is currently looking at him like he's an idiot.

"Uh," Jaemin manages. "That's...nice?"

Jeno nods, looking at his pod, or ship, or whatever it is. He runs a hand through his hair. Jaemin watches the movement, one that seems born of frustration or exhaustion. Jaemin looks up at the starry sky, clouds beginning to cross the moon.

"Well," he starts, looking at the ground. "Unless you're planning to be out here all night, you should probably get some rest." Jaemin takes a breath and a leap into the dark. "My house is right up the hill," he offers.

Jeno raises an eyebrow. Jaemin feels like its probably a bad idea inviting someone who was most likely an alien or a nutcase into his house, but he knew he'd feel bad  if he left him out here all night.

"Thanks," Jeno says as he climbs out of the crater. He offers a hand to Jaemin, whose feet slip in the soft earth.

Jaemin leads him through the woods to his house, opening the back door and turning on the lights. He doesn't have to worry about disturbing anyone - his parents are rarely home. Currently, they're on some type of research trip, halfway across the world. It's summer, and for the most part he's the only person in the house. Jaemin knows his parents are brilliant scientists, constantly busy, but he's always found their parenting to be a bit disappointing.

"Um," Jaemin says, gesturing to the couch. "You can sleep there, if you want." He thinks for a moment. "You do sleep, right?"

"Yeah," Jeno says, sitting cautiously on the couch. "Thanks." 

Jaemin looks at him for a moment longer before murmuring a "good night" and vanishing into his bedroom.

That night he dreams about falling stars and metal, about white hair and pulsing lights. 

...

Jeno never explicitly says he's an alien. He doesn't have to.

They settle into a routine as the summer wears on. Some days Jeno vanishes into the woods to repair his ship, spending long hours in the sun and beneath the trees. On those days Jaemin watches him, sitting nearby with a book in his hand, pretending to read every time Jeno looks at him. Jeno's focus is laser intense as he peels sheets of metal apart with tools Jaemin has never seen before. There's something entrancing about him as he works, surrounded by sparks. Jaemin pretends he doesn't notice.

Other days Jaemin leads Jeno into the woods and they pick wild berries and dip their feet in the stream. They take polaroid photos of them doing the most mundane things, smiling as if everything is an adventure. Sometimes Jeno picks flowers and weaves them into his hair, laughing. Jaemin doesn't know which is worse: Jeno laughing or Jeno smiling, since both are equally deadly. The sun turns their skin tan as the summer days drag on.

Sometimes Jaemin's parents call. Sometimes he answers.

When night falls Jaemin can usually find Jeno sitting on the porch, face upturned to the sky. Most times Jaemin sits next to him, the both of them quiet.

One night Jeno speaks, breaking the silence.

"The stars look different here," he says, his voice a murmur. "All the constellations are different." There's sadness in his voice, a sort of wistfulness that breaks Jaemin's heart a little.

So Jaemin teaches him. He points out the constellations: the big dipper, little dipper, Polaris at the end. He points out the three stars of Orion's belt, the wings of Cygnus. He does this until Jeno's eyes almost sparkle in the starlight, until Jeno smiles at him.

It makes Jaemin happy. It makes Jaemin feel something other than lonely.

Jeno, in turn, whispers to him about where he's from. He never mentions it by name, but talks of lavender skies and fields of green grass, of the way the wind whistles between iron canyons like a song. He tells Jaemin he's never seen a sky so dark, or trees so tall. Jaemin absorbs these little secrets, snatched whispers as the moon rises. 

Jaemin goes into town once a week to get groceries, the trip generally one that takes up the whole day. It takes an hour and a half to get to the nearest grocery store and Jaemin still gets nervous driving down the steep mountain roads. He lets Jeno tag along, because he can't imagine leaving him all by himself.

Jeno is no help while Jaemin drives. He fiddles with the radio and rolls down the window just so he can stick his head out. This time he's wearing one of Jaemin's shirts, the short sleeves rolled up to his shoulders, exposing his arms. The sight of it makes Jaemin's mouth dry.

Every time they go into town Jeno marvels at the cars, the people. He marvels at the little water spouts in the grocery store that clean the vegetables. He clings to Jaemin's side, constantly asking him the name of this or that. It's cute, Jaemin thinks. Annoying, sometimes, yes, but mostly cute.

Jaemin grabs a shopping cart and fills it with the basics, milk and eggs and the like. Jeno stands in the aisle, looking at the decorated cupcakes with an astounded look on his face. 

"Are these edible?" He asks, unbelieving. Jaemin nods.

"Yeah," Jaemin says, standing next to him. "Do you want one?"

Jeno nods excitedly.

They walk out of the store, Jaemin shouldering several plastic bags and Jeno examining his cupcake. Jaemin puts the bags in the backseat and then looks at Jeno curiously.

"Well?" He asks. "Are you going to eat it?"

"It's so pretty," Jeno says, mystified by the swirls of icing. He takes a bite and his eyes light up.

"It's so sweet!" he exclaims. Jaemin smiles.

_Just like you._

_..._

The days drag on, turning into weeks, a month. The summer days are warm.

But not everything is perfect.

Some nights Jeno screams in his sleep, seized by terrors he can't control. The lights shatter and explode. Sometimes Jaemin is thrown out of the room by the sheer force of whatever is possessing him. Paper flies. Doors open and close and the walls shake. On those nights Jaemin fights his way towards Jeno, trying to shake him awake. 

The second Jeno opens his eyes it all stops, and he holds onto Jaemin like he is the only solid thing in this world or any other.

...

Jaemin isn't sure if they're just friends. He isn't sure what they are anymore. Sometimes Jeno hugs him a little harder than normal, laughs a little louder than usual, looks at him a little longer than before. There's an alien look in his eyes, one that Jaemin can't interpret.

Jaemin can't look away like he did before. He gets caught up in the way sparks dance across Jeno's skin, the way the sun glints through his hair. Every emotion is more intense when it comes to Jeno. Happiness. Longing. Pain.

Sometimes Jeno catches him staring and smiles, almost knowingly. It's enough to make Jaemin bury his nose in his book, pretending the flush in his cheeks is from the heat.

Jeno kisses him first, one sunny afternoon beneath the trees, next to the stream. He tastes like metal and sparks. Jeno's hands are wet, cool against Jaemin's skin. He pulls back and Jaemin stares at him.

He wonders if this is what falling in love feels like.

...

Jaemin can sense the frustration under Jeno's skin. He can see it, too, when when he slams his hands on the hull of his ship, yelling incoherently.

"It doesn't work!" He fumes, throwing pieces of metal to the side. "Why doesn't anything  _work?_ " His voice is laced with desperation, helplessness. Jaemin does what he can to assure him, rubs his shoulders and murmurs that things will work out.

But Jaemin knows that something is wrong. Knows it because now Jeno looks at the stars with tears in his eyes. Knows it when Jeno mumbles words in his sleep in a language that Jaemin can't understand.

Storms roll over the mountains, but the rain doesn't stop Jeno. He goes out in the morning and returns in the afternoon, dripping wet.

"You shouldn't be out when it rains," Jaemin says quietly, toweling Jeno's soaked hair. Jeno's fingers curl against his thigh.

"I have to, Jaemin." His gaze softens, eyes unfocusing. "I have to."

Jaemin can almost hear the unspoken words in his voice.

_I have to go home._

That night Jeno lies next to him and whispers about the lavender skies, the green fields, the iron canyons. But this time it almost seems like a mantra, a prayer - as if hes afraid he'll forget.

Jaemin's mom calls him one morning, the phone ringing with an urgent pitch. Jaemin considers ignoring it, but he accepts the call anyway.

"Hello?"

"Jaemin." The way his mother says his name is not a greeting but instead a declaration, a demand for attention. His mother's voice isn't harsh, but that somehow makes it worse. "How are you?"

"I'm good," Jaemin replies in a monotone voice, rubbing at a speck of dirt on the table. He schools his voice into one of almost boredom, as if hearing his parent's voice doesn't make him want to scream and cry all at the same time. "How are you and dad?"

"Good." The line goes silent. "Just wanted to check up on you."

Jaemin mumbles a thanks into the phone, his heart only partially in it. 

"Your father and I are very busy." she continues. "So I have to go."

"What are you even  _doing?_ " Jaemin blurts out, the words escaping him. He can hear his mother's pensive silence.

"You know I can't tell you that," she says, chiding him. "We're just looking at some meteorological patterns, that's all."

"That's what you say every time," Jaemin complains.

"Just be good," she says, the same words Jaemin always hears. "Make sure you eat well."

She doesn't say goodbye, just hangs up and leaves Jaemin holding the silent end of the phone. He puts it down, staring at the black screen.

"You're upset," Jeno states, watching him from the doorway. Jaemin rubs at his eyes. He's not crying but the familiar burn of unshed tears is there, lurking. Jeno grabs his hand, gripping it tightly.

"My parents," Jaemin says, his throat dry, "they just...they're never around."

It's true. Jaemin's parents have always had to be somewhere. Sometimes Jaemin feels a bit like a discarded toy. It feels like his parents have always had better places to be than with him. He's always been alone, just him and the mountains.

But now, Jaemin realizes, it's him, the mountains, and Jeno.

...

When the men with guns come, Jaemin is in the kitchen washing the dishes, Jeno sitting on the kitchen counter playing music from Jaemin's phone. The sound of pop songs and running water fills the kitchen.

The doorbell rings and Jaemin pauses. There aren't many people who come this far out to see him. He dries his hands and answers the door, leaving Jeno in the kitchen.

There are two men, dressed entirely in black uniforms, guns at their hips. Jaemin freezes in the doorway. 

"Hello," the first man says, his voice gruff. He's wearing dark glasses, the lenses hiding his eyes. "May we come in?"

Jaemin stands there, mouth open. "Um, okay." He opens the door a bit wider and the men practically push past him.

The second man turns to him, a hand resting lightly on the holster at his hip. "Have you seen or heard anything unusual in the past month or so?"

Jaemin's pulse quickens, and he tries to control his voice as he replies. "No," he responds, "but we've had some big storms pass through here."

The other man looks around the room. "Are you sure? No strange lights or loud noises?"

Jaemin feigns boredom and crosses his arms. "No. Plus, it's the mountains. There's a thunderstorm every week. I see plenty of lightning."

The second man frowns at his attitude, but Jaemin doesn't care. He wants them out of his house as soon as possible. He doesn't need them to poke around here any more than they already have, and he  _certainly_  doesn't need them to explore the woods.

Jeno pops his head out of the kitchen. "Jaemin? Who is that?"

The two uniformed men draw their guns and point them at Jeno, who's wearing a bewildered expression.

"Come out with your hands up!" The one man says, gun trained on Jeno's chest. Jaemin moves in front of him, hands out placatingly.

"He's just a friend, please don't-" The man pushes past him and grabs Jeno's wrist, causing him to cry out in alarm. Something on the man's wrist beeps and flashes red, and the other cocks his gun. 

"You're coming with us," he growls, dragging Jeno along. Jaemin steps in front of the door, blocking the way.

"You can't do this," he shouts, grabbing at the hand holding Jeno. "Who are you people?! I'm calling the police!" 

One of the men hits Jaemin with his elbow, knocking him roughly to the ground. He kicks him in the side, pointing his gun at his chest. Jeno is planting his feet in the door frame, yelling to Jaemin as they pull him away.

Jeno screams and the room explodes.

Glass shatters as the windows implode, pulled inward by Jeno's panic. The armed men fly backwards and hit the wall, slumping to the floor. Jaemin can feel himself sliding backwards and he buries his face in his hands, shielding his eyes from the flurry of glass in the air. Jeno falls to his knees, almost exhausted, and everything stops in midair. The glass falls to the ground, tinkling like diamond rain. His chest is heaving as he looks at Jaemin, who struggles to his feet.

Then Jaemin is grabbing Jeno's hand and they're running into the woods, sprinting like their lives depend on it. The path is familiar to both of them and they weave through the trees, along the stream, until Jeno's ship can be seen lying in the trees, a shiny hunk of metal in the dirt.

"You have to go," Jaemin pants. "More of them might come." He's holding Jeno's hands so tightly in his own that his fingers are going numb. "Is your ship ready?"

Jeno nods slowly, something like regret in his eyes. Jaemin looks at him, his eyes uncharacteristically wet. Jeno pulls him closer, wrapping his arms around his waist. They've done this hundreds of times before but this time it feels different, desperate. Jeno pulls back and fishes something out of his back pocket. Jaemin's breath catches in his throat.

He wonders if this is what heartbreak feels like.

It's a polaroid photo of them, taken by the stream earlier in the summer. In it Jaemin's head is thrown back and he's laughing, Jeno's arm slung around his shoulders. Jaemin's heart lifts at the memory of that day, before everything became so hurried, so dangerous. His throat burns, the sensation familiar.

"I'll come back," Jeno promises quietly, placing a hand on Jaemin's chest. "I'll come back." He says again, softer this time. Jaemin sniffs quietly, afraid he'll cry.

"Don't promise me that," he says. "Promise me you'll be careful. Promise me you'll make it wherever you're going." He can see tears forming in Jeno's eyes, see himself reflected in them, see the entire universe just beneath the surface.

"I promise," Jeno whispers. Jaemin leans forward and kisses him, gently, the action a promise unto itself. It's a bittersweet goodbye, one that breaks Jaemin's heart a thousand times over. He wonders if there's a universe where he doesn't have to let Jeno go, where he doesn't have to say goodbye.

What Jaemin wants...Jaemin doesn't know what he wants. It's selfish to ask Jeno to stay, he knows this. He also knows he cannot follow Jeno to wherever he's going.

So instead he lets Jeno pull away. Lets him pull on the metal shirt he was wearing the first time they met. Lets him step inside the ship, waving at him, the polaroid photo tucked in his pocket, a little piece of Jaemin to accompany him on the long journey home.

They don't say goodbye. At least, not in words.

Jaemin watches as the glass reforms around Jeno and the metal begins to glow. He steps back into the surrounding copse of trees and raises a hand to shield his eyes. There's a sound like thunder as the craft lifts off the ground, and Jaemin grits his teeth through the accompanying reverberations. The ship lifts into the sky and Jaemin's eyes follow it, a speck of silver against the blue. It vanishes as it rises and Jaemin runs out into the clearing and tries to see, strains his eyes for just one last peek of Jeno. But it's no use.

Jeno is gone just as suddenly as he came.

...

Jaemin trudges back to the house like a robot. He sweeps the glass away. When the armed men regain consciousness he explains there was a sudden earthquake and the windows shattered. It's hardly a believable excuse but the men nod, disoriented and confused. They leave, and Jaemin can't help but wonder if this is an after effect of Jeno's power.

He calls someone to fix the windows. He finishes doing the dishes. Time passes, but never fast enough.

Jaemin's parents come home a week later. He doesn't avoid them this time, but instead greets them as if he's happy to see them. If this surprises his mother she doesn't show it, but his dad engulfs him in a hug.

Jaemin doesn't try to forget Jeno, but he doesn't try to remember him, either. At night, he looks at the stars and whipsers the name of the constellations: the big dipper, little dipper, Polaris at the end. The three stars of Orion's belt, the wings of Cygnus.

He isn't quite sure what he's looking for - a shooting star, maybe, a point in the sky just a little brighter than the others.

But he never sees anything different, and he eventually stops looking.

A year passes, then two.

He's lying in bed counting the revolutions of the ceiling fan when he hears it, a sound like crashing thunder. He's out of bed in a heartbeat, racing out the door and through the woods. The stars are bright and he's out of breath but he can't believe it, can't let himself believe it, can't stop himself from chasing what could be a case of mistaken identity.

There's light in the clearing, pulsing like a heartbeat and Jaemin has to keep himself from running towards the clearing. It takes every ounce of willpower in him to stay at the edge of the trees, waiting.

The ship is there, gleaming in the strange light. It looks better than the last time he saw it, completely polished and repaired. His breath catches as the glass melts away and he sees  _him_ , almost unchanged from the last time they were together.

Jeno steps out of ship, white hair tousled. He almost seems to glow under the stars, a moon to rival any other. Their eyes meet across the clearing.

The breath escapes his lips before he realizes he's holding it and suddenly he's walking towards Jeno, feet moving of their own accord. It's like a scene out of a movie, the way Jeno wraps his arms around his waist, the way their lips meet beneath the stars.

Jaemin wonders if this is what coming home feels like.

"I told you I'd come back," he says, smiling. Jaemin is so happy he could cry, and he lightly hits Jeno on the chest.

"I thought I'd never see you again." He manages.

Jeno's wearing something around his throat, a strange gem laced around with golden wire. He lifts it over his head and places it around Jaemin's neck. The stone is warm, even through the fabric of his shirt.

"What is this?" Jaemin asks, holding the stone between his fingers. It's an almost electric blue, run through with veins of some pearly mineral. There's a faint glow to it, like a star shines within.

"Where I'm from," Jeno says, taking his hand and closing his fingers around the gem, "It's a tradition to give these to the people we cherish. The people we love."

Jaemin's heart quickens at the thought, and the warmth of Jeno's hand around his, at the close proximity of their faces.

This time, when Jaemin kisses Jeno, it isn't a goodbye. It's something more, untainted by time or sorrow or longing. Jaemin can taste the starlight on Jeno's tongue, can feel the cosmos in his fingertips as they brush his waist.

When the universe aligns, it aligns for Na Jaemin.

The stars burn and twinkle above, and Jaemin wonders if this is what it feels like to be loved.

**Author's Note:**

> a) hello it's me i honestly don't know what possessed me to write this??? i hope yall enjoyed it  
> b) also [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/qk4ef212wdgk0yexpmvcqkguw/playlist/1JCu0IElA0TtgSVR0W4OyU?si=JZ706AMzTUKlhs7ibUpRJg) is the playlist for this story! please check it out and tell me what yall think :)


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